


Acting in Haste and Repenting at Leisure

by Currer_Bell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Catelyn Lives, F/M, Gen, Implied Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, M/M, R Plus L Equals J, Robb Lives, Robb Stark is King in the North, Robb Stark is a Gift, Sexual Content, Spoilers for Book 5 - A Dance with Dragons, The War for the Dawn, War of the Five Kings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-01-13 08:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18465664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Currer_Bell/pseuds/Currer_Bell
Summary: After two victories and with Jaime Lannister as a hostage, he had felt confident that his father would be returned to them. "He'll be back with us if the gods are good." But the gods were seldom good. The news of Ned Stark's death reached them soon after that discussion took place, as though the gods wanted to mock them for having hope.OR: Jon Snow meets two new people during the king's visit and regrets his decision to join the watch.The story follows what happens after that, describing a different War of the Five Kings, and unlikely alliances are made when Young Griff finally decide to travel west.There's a bit of a same sex relationship, so don't read if you don't like. but It will not be the focus of the story at all.





	1. Robb I

 

 

 

**Robb**

 

It had started innocently enough, though Robb couldn't really remember when it had started or how. He just knew that at some point between the ages of one-and-ten and three-and-ten his body had started reacting to Jon.

  
There had been some exploration earlier, of course. They'd been inseparable as kids, and they'd seen each other naked plenty of times. The boys would relax their aching mucsles in the pools in the godswood after a day of hard training or after they had just played and run around too much. They had bathed together in the hot springs all the time. In all such occasions they would've been almost naked. Robb wouldn't deny that even when they were innocent children, they'd been less innocent than average.

  
In a period of time, before Arya was old enough to start following them around, and before Father had brought Theon back from war, it had been just Jon and Robb. It started around that time, he'd say, though Jon always denied having thought of him sexually before the age of at least three-and-ten. Back then he hadn't really understood what being a lord's heir meant, or why Jon was named Snow, or why Jon wasn't Mother's son as well as Father's, or why sometimes the castle's staff and visiting lords would wish Robb had his brother's dark hair. _Everything was so easy then. I could just ignore the things I didn't understand._

 

* * *

 

"So?" Robb looked at him expectantly, trying not to betray the... whatever it was he was feeling.  _Please say you won't go_ _,_ he pleaded silently.  _Is it so hard to stay?_ _Are you running from_ _me?_

 

The subject of his sinful obsession looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked as though he might just fall asleep right in the middle of the library."I talked to that man Uncle Benjen brought along. His name is Donal Noye, a smith. He's done so many things, Robb. He's traveled, and... he's experienced everything that the world has to offer, before joining the Watch. He said he wouldn't have taken the black if he hadn't lost one arm in the war. But before losing his arm, he'd smithed for Stannis Baratheon, the king's brother."

 

Robb couldn't believe his ears. It sounded as if Jon  _had_ changed his mind.

 

"He's seen the Seven Kingdoms from one end to the other; he's feasted and wenched and fought battles," Jon continued, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions his red-headed brother was going through. "They say Donal forged King Robert's famous warhammer." 

 

He didn't say anything.  _I want him to decide for himself. He shouldn't go there if he doesn't want to, but I don't want him to think I want him here because of my... unbrotherly feelings._

 

Jon's dark hair tumbled into his face as he looked down for a moment before finally saying, "I could never do any of that if I took the black now. I'll join the Watch when I'm older, when I've seen more of the world. I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't _live_ before exiling myself to the Wall." 

 

Something deep down in his heart, in places he had not yet explored broke into a thousand little pieces. "Exile?" he asked. "What do you mean?" 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this work comes from the title of a chapter in Anne of Avonlea.


	2. Jon I

 

 

 

**Jon**

 

He told Robb that Donal Noye's tales of adventure had been what changed his mind, but while the blacksmith's words had affected him, it was mostly the Imp. They had talked three times, and he already had changed Jon's mind about the Night's Watch, and planted seeds of doubt in his mind. Jon was willing to believe that his mind was trult his greatest asset. At first Lord Tyrion had asked a few harmless questions about the north, Winterfell, and direwolves. He'd also asked about his sexual experiences with women.

 

 

> _"Have you ever slept with a woman before?" Tyrion_ _Lannister watched him carefully._
> 
> _Warmth crept up Jon's neck to paint his cheeks in pink._  
> 
> _He grinned. "Just as I thought."_
> 
>  

Jon wanted to go find him, and tell him that "No, I've never known a woman's touch, but my brother touched me just the night before your arrival. He wasn't even drunk, and he looked at me the way Theon looks at those serving wenches he gropes and molests." He knew it would be stupidity of the highest degree to reveal that particular secret to anyone, but his throat itched to scream.  _And I didn't really mind it. Only the touching part, I mean. I minded a lot when he looked at me like I was some wench to be molested._ He wanted to tell someone, because he didn't have the courage to confront Robb. Maybe they would both forget it if they never talked about it.

 

Maybe it would be best to go to the Wall after all. _Maybe the Imp lied._

 

> _"Why is Ned Stark sending you to the Wall?" Tyrion's fingers combed through Ghost's white fur gently. He'd taken a liking to the direwolf, and Jon suspected that the feeling was mutual._
> 
> _"He's not sending me," he answered. "I've decided to go myself."_
> 
> _"Well, I'm sure your lord father is very pleased with your decision." Lannister smirked._
> 
> _Jon glared at him. "I'm not entirely sure what implications you're trying to make."_
> 
> _"Well, isn't it just convenient? The bastard swears off lands and titles, the lady wife must surely be relieved to see him leave, and the lord will be rid of the nuisance of the responsibility of finding some occupation for his natural son," said Tyrion, looking smug._
> 
> _"That's not..." Jon wanted to deny it. Why was it so hard to deny? "My father would never..."_
> 
> _"Oh, I'm sure he's been very kind to you." His green eye twinkled, and his black eye reminded Jon of the black cloak of his uncle. "They all have been, certainly."_
> 
> _"Say what you mean to say," Jon almost growled. Ghost fled from the dwarf to sit beside his human _._
> 
> _"Your brother Robb, he’s always been kind, and why not? He gets a whole kingdom and you get the Wall. And your father … he must have good reasons for packing you off to the Night’s Watch …” Tyrion's green eye now glittered like a gemstone; Jon had never hated the color green this much._
> 
> _He stood up, towering over the Imp like a giant, yet he'd never felt so helpless, so close to crying. "Stop it!"_

 

These past few days he'd felt like a tormented animal. Bran was still in that unnatural sort of sleep, and he hadn't been to see him yet. Lady Catelyn was sitting at his bedside this very moment, perhaps soaking a piece of cloth in honeyed milk and feeding Bran so he would have nourishment enough. His father had been busy talking to the king, and he'd brushed off Jon's attempts to talk to him. _Is Tyrion Lannister right?_ he wanted to ask.

  
He hadn't thought of the awkward incident with Robb much, and that was the only good effect Lannister's conversation had had so far. After all one must consider the plans for one's future to be more important than the alarming amount of pleasure that could be received from a rough hand on one's cock. _Even if that hand belonged to my own brother..._

 

It was ages before Lord Stark summoned him, and when he finally did, he looked so worried and exhausted that Jon almost felt guilty for insisting they should talk. _Be brave, you bloody bastard_. _Now's not the time for balking_. He breathed in deep, preparing.

 

"Benjen says you've changed your mind," his father said before he could get a word out.

 

"That's true." _Robb must have told him._

 

"Might I ask why? When Maester Luwin said you'd like to take the black it seemed like you were quite determined."

 

"I talked to one of the black brothers, and..." Jon suddenly felt out of place. Lady Stark wanted him gone, and she'd probably told Father that she wouldn't tolerate Jon any longer. He wouldn't want to stay in Winterfell if his own Father wanted to get rid of him; he was bastard-born, but he still had his pride.

 

"Pray continue."

 

"Does it matter why? I don't want to go anymore. I won't burden your lady wife with my presence if she won't have me here, but I don't want to wear a black cloak for the rest of my days. I'm sure I could-"

 

"Jon," his father interrupted. "Do you think I want you gone?"

 

He didn't didn't say anything.

 

Lord Stark sighed. "You always have a place here. You're my blood, and I swore to protect you, and I care for you. I hope you already knew all these things, nonetheless I want to assure you."

 

"Thank you," he answered in a croaky voice.

 

"However, I'm afraid Catelyn insists-"

 

"I told you I would-"

 

"Will you let me talk?" Lord Stark chuckled. "Since the first day I brought you here, people have been offering to foster you, mostly my bannermen, but Lord Arryn once also suggested it. He said he could find you a place with one of the Vale lords, you see he didn't stay at the Eyrie himself at the time."

 

_Of course, he was the King's Hand._

 

"I've been thinking about sending Theon to Lord Manderly so he can learn how to captain a ship," he continued.

 

"Would the king allow it?" Jon asked. _Who would trust Theon near ships where he could easily buy passage back to Pyke?_

 

"I've mentioned it to him, and His Grace thought the idea had some merit to it, but he'd be under guard all the time, and House Manderly is a most loyal house." Father stood up, placing his hands on Jon's shoulders. "I know you aren't as close to Theon as Robb is, but would you like to live in White Harbour with him?"

 

He snorted. "I think I could put up with him for another few years." Jon and Theon headed toward White Harbour on the same day the king's party left.

 

 

 

 


	3. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of explaining the asoiaf plot we'll be skipping some time every chapter from now on. Important events will be mentioned in passing. Recognizable but heavily edited content from one of Catelyn's pov chapters in AGOT.
> 
> Robb is currently staying at Moat Cailin with the men he quickly assembled.

 

**Jon**

 

  
Moat Cailin did not look as impressive as in Old Nan's stories where the old kings of the north had crushed their enemies. It was said the Moat used to have twenty towers, now only three of them remained. Above all three of those towers the grey direwolf was running in the snow. The sunburst of House Karstark accompanied the direwolf atop the Drunkard's Tower, and on the Children's Tower it was the Greatjon's giant.

 

On the Gatehouse Tower, however, the direwolf flew alone. Jon found his brother there, confering with his lords. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he'd last seen Robb. _He's trying to grow a beard,_ he thought. _It makes him look older than fifteen._ He stood there near the door, not wanting to interrupt their war council. It could be nothing but a war council. Grey Wind lifted his head from where he was lying near the hearth, and his intelligent eyes met Jon's.

 

After some time, Robb dismissed the lords. As they were leaving Lord Umber slapped Jon on the shoulder and muttered something about how they were going to take the Red Keep and free Ned, Roose Bolton looked at him with those scary pale eyes, but said nothing, and the others acknowledged him with a nod or a short greeting. Once they all had left, Robb stood up.

 

"Jon." It wasn't a question or a statement, it was more like Robb just wanted to confirm his existence.

 

"You have whiskers now," he replied. Grey Wind padded across the room to come rub his head againt Jon's legs. He seemed too big, and he wasn't done growing.

 

The acting Lord of Winterfell touched his scruffy jaw, trying to act nonchalantly, but he could see that Robb's ears were turning pink. "Does it look terrible?"

 

"No, not at all," Jon responded. Grey Wind nipped at his fingers playfully, then went back to his place by the fire. "It becomes you."

 

  
There was ale and cheese on the table. Jon poured himself some ale, and Robb sat down again. They were silent for a _long_ while, both trying to pretend the reunion was less awkward than it seemed. Robb was the one who broke the silence. "You have every right to loathe me for the rest of my days. I shouldn't have done that, and I'm terribly sorry."

 

Jon met his brother's blue eyes and shook his head. "You need not take all the blame. I should've stopped you. I could have punched you or pushed you away or... I apologise too, for what it's worth." The memory was still fresh in his mind, and somehow it both disguted and excited him.

 

"I'm leading an army to battle," he said after a few seconds, incredulous.

 

He didn't ask Robb why he was leading it himself, why he hadn't given the command to one of the experienced lords. "What do you plan to do? The Greatjon was very confident that you could defeat Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime both and take King's Landing then free Father." Lord Umber sometimes talked like a green boy.

 

"I have a fledgeling of a battle plan," Robb replied, doubt and hope and fear all mixed in his voice.

 

"Well, tell me all about it." He leaned over the table to inspect the maps. "No, wait. Other than demanding you go bend your knee to Joffrey, have the Lannisters said anything else?"

 

Robb produced a letter written by Sansa in which she claimed she was being treated kindly, but the damned letter didn't mention Arya at all. She asked his brother to come to King's Landing and swear fealty to the new king. "If you go, they'll never let you leave again. They have enough hostages already."

 

"I was hoping we could exchange Lord Tywin's dwarf son for one or both of the girls." Robb then proceeded to tell him about the number of the men he'd assembled quickly. "The Kingslayer has more, and his father is bringing another army. It's said to be even bigger than Jaime's host."

 

"Lord Manderly said Father had sent out some men to oppose them under the king's banner," said Jon.

 

"Yes, he gave the command to some stormlord called Deric or Erik or something. Lord Derik had no sooner crossed the Red Fork than the Lannisters fell upon him. It was a trap."

  
"I see."

  
"Gregor Clegane took them in the rear as they tried to pull back across the Mummer’s Ford, ignoring the king's banner. This Lord Derik and a few others may have escaped, no one knows for sure..." It was sundown when Robb finished explaining the situation.

 

"Gods, Robb. We were playing with wooden swords less than a few months ago."

 

He smiled. "Do you remember what Father once said?"

 

Jon grinned; he knew which one he was thinking of. "A man can only be brave when he's afraid."

 

His brother looked worried again. "What would they do to Sansa and Arya and Father? When they declare me a rebel, what if they kill them all?" Robb's hand was trembling on the table.

 

"You can only hope you can defeat them on the field."  _What chance does he have against Tywin Lannister?_   Jon thought grimly. "The Queen Regent won't harm them, they need to have hostages to make peace if the fighting goes against them."

 

"What if it doesn't go against them?" he asked, coming closer. He could count the red hairs on Robb's chin. They were a bit redder than the hair on top of his head. Robb's breath smelt like ale. _He's not drunk, though. Just like he wasn't drunk the first time when he all but jumped on me._

 

He took a deep breath and answered, "Then we all die." His heart was beating so hard, he was wondering if Robb could hear it. They were so close that Robb's nose bumped againt his cheek and chin. He tilted his head a little and barely touched Robb's lips with his own. 

 

"I'm terrified," Robb whispered, "and I don't want you to die."

 

"Then we'll have to win the war," he whispered back. Their next kiss was not chaste at all. Robb leapt forward and caught his lips, as if he were truly a wolf, hunting and claiming. Their tongues wrapped around each other, and he couldn't believe anything could feel so nice. He'd kissed a girl or two, and Robb certainly had too, but it'd never been so satisfying. Nothing else mattered as long as Robb's body was pressed against his own. The rest of the world disappeared. His hand rested on one side of Robb's face, while Robb's hand was messing with his hair, tugging and pulling. When they finally stopped for breath, Jon realised he'd bitten the other man's lower lip. That explained the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

 

"Gods," he said. "What have we done?"

 

"I don't care," Robb informed him. "Guard the door, Grey Wind."

 

 _What have we done? This can't be happening..._ Before he knew it, he was opening Robb's breeches, and soon his hand was on his cock. Robb was groaning loudly now, so he caught his mouth again in order to muffle the sounds. _We shouldn't be doing this..._ But they were.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the first time I write Male/Male and I'm trying very hard not to use their names too much, but I can't just refer to them as "he" all the time when they're both "he"s! The struggle is real.
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to anyone who left kudos, bookmarked or commented on this work.


	4. Jon III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of recognizable content here and there. A short chapter, just to briefly describe battles and certain plans.

 

 

**Jon**

 

 

The first battle had been much scarier than anticipated. He had been one of the thirty guards that were supposed to protect Robb, yet he couldn't remember if he'd even stayed next to the Young Wolf throughout the fighting. He couldn't recall anything worth storytelling, just a blur of colors and sounds. The sounds of the battle still ringed in his head; Grey Wind howling, the arrows flying, the shouts of "Winterfell!" and "Lannister!", the screaming of dying horses and lances breaking. Robb had been a bit confuesd too; he'd returned on a different horse and had no idea of what had happened to the first one.

 

"The realm's not seen such a victory since the Field of Fire," Daryn Hornwood would later claim. "I vow, the Lannisters lost ten men for every one of ours that fell." The man also liked to tell everyone about the number of men and horses the direwolves had killed. 

 

The night after Jon's first battle, they'd caught the forces besieging Riverrun off-guard. The Lannister force had been divided into three camps, making them vulnerable enough to be defeated easily. He'd talked to Robb for hours before each of those two battles about how the fighting had to go if they were to succeed, but in the middle of the fight he couldn't tell if it _was_ going the way it was supposed to or not. Later Jon would often wonder how he'd survived without nary a scratch. 

 

After two victories and with Jaime Lannister as a hostage, he had felt confident that his father would be returned to them. Robb had agreed, saying, "he'll be back with us if the gods are good." But the gods were seldom good. The news of Ned Stark's death reached them soon after that discussion took place, as though the gods wanted to mock them for having hope. And soon after that Jon had stood up in Riverrun's Great Hall, bellowing the ancient title of the King in the North and promising his sword to his new king. 

 

 

 

 

"They will not accept," he said, turning to look Robb in the face. That morning one of the Queen Regent's cousins had been sent on his way to present her with the peace terms. 

 

"I know." The King of Winter sighed. "Please don't say I should've offered _sweeter terms_ ; my mother's already said that." 

 

"I wasn't going to, though Lady Catelyn's right. I mean what's the point of sending envoys when you know they won't give what you want?" He threw a dark blue tunic in Robb's direction. "And put that on." Earlier Robb had sent away his Frey squire, and they'd snogged the breath out of each. At some point he had lost his tunic, and now his body was distracting Jon. 

 

"Mother says I shouldn't trust Theon." Robb put it on. 

 

Theon and Jon had never been close, despite growing up together and spending several extra months together in White Harbor. "What makes you think I'd say differently?"

 

The Ironborn had sent a letter to Riverrun, telling Robb he should ally with Balon Greyjoy of all people, and he'd even volunteered to be the north's envoy. Lady Catelyn thought it was an obvious attempt at running away to his homeland. Jon thought Theon was bitter that he'd been left out of the glory of waging a war on the Lannisters and wanted a taste of it himself.  

 

"It's very unsettling, you know." 

 

"What is?" he asked, sinking deeper into Robb's soft linen sheets. 

 

"That you and my mother are agreeing on everything." Robb had depended on his mother at first, he still did, but since he was proclaimed king, he'd stopped listening to her. Jon guessed he was afraid he'd look like a green boy in front of his lords bannermen. 

 

Jon didn't answer. He pressed his face to the mattress, feeling drowsy. "I should go back to my bedchamber."

 

"I wish you'd stay with me," he murmured, framing Jon's face in his hands. "Night and day." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two battles Jon describes briefly in the beginning are the Battle of the Whispering Wood & Battle of the Camps.  
> In this story Daryn Hornwood didn't die in Whispering Wood as he did in canon.  
> I'll be using the term MONTH, I don't care what they say in Westeros. MOON sounds ridiculous.


	5. Robb II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I just realized that I didn't mention anything about the comet & the arrival of white raven announcing autumn, both events happened in the time span chapter 4 covered. *looks embarrassed*

 

**Robb**

 

 

 

For the first few days after he was named king, Jon had been beside him constantly. He remembered Jon, sinking to his knees, swearing him his sword and calling him King in the North. He remembered the glint of mischief in his dark eyes afterwards. He did not know how they could've done what they did. Sometimes he would just sit and drown in his guilt, but never when Jon was around; Jon made him forget everything else in the world. _It should not be that easy._ _How could we go so far so easily? Putting away all the things we've learned all our lives should not be this easy!_   Kissing him, touching him, whispering in his ear as they broke their fasts; it all happened so easily. Although Robb was sure he was defying both the old gods and the new, his affections still felt clean and innocent, like fresh fallen snow. Perhaps it was because it helped him hope, and hope fell right into the category of naive feelings.

 

A fortnight later Theon's letter had arrived, and both his brother and mother insisted he should not allow him to return to Pyke. When Robb had written back, agreeing with his friend's plans for an alliance with the Iron Islands, Jon had said he wasn't proving himself to be a terribly wise king. Then his mother had refused to go meet Renly Baratheon as Robb's envoy. "Not while my father's still on the verge of death," she'd said. Finally he had sent Harrion Karstark and Lord Mallister and a few other riverlords who had not yet run off to protect their own castles. He'd barely seen Jon after that. It did not matter now; there were much more pressing matters to think about. 

 

He would not deny he liked being king and leading armies; It was like the games of his boyhood, he could almost hear Jon shouting, "I am Daeron the Young Dragon!"  _Daeron died young,_  he remembered. _We won't._ The Lannisters were in a precarious position; he was sitting on their supply lines, Stannis was withing striking distance of the capital, and there was also Renly with his new wife's rich family as allies. _I could find a way to pressure them, to defeat them even._

 

He looked up from the map, watching the door expectantly.  _Does he want me to go chase after him? He_ _should've been here by now._ As if summoned by his thoughts, someone knocked on the door. "You may enter."

 

He was disappointed by the sight of a maester standing in the doorway. "Your Grace, we have received a letter. Ser Edmure bid me bring it to you." The man placed it on the table, right next to Harrenhall on the map.

 

The letter was sealed in red. It was a sigil he'd never seen before. "From whom?"

 

The maester started to answer, "That is apparently the new-" 

 

"Thank you, but I believe the sender will have signed his letter. You may leave us." Jon looked at him expectantly. The maester looked to Robb for approval and left. His brother sat down across from him, and Robb was reminded of that day at the Moat. 

 

He picked up the letter. "You finally answered my summons." Breaking the seal, he flicked his eyes to the bottom. 

 

Jon didn't look abashed. "I do beg Your Grace's pardon if I kept you waiting."

 

He rolled his eyes. "It's from Lord Stannis. Well, King Stannis. It seems everyday new kings appear in every corner of the realm."

 

"His little brother is calling himself Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, why shouldn't he?" Jon's dark hair tumbled down lazily to cover his forehead. "What does offer for an alliance?"

 

Robb skimmed the writing quickly, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "He doesn't. He claim... he says he's Robert's rightful heir, and all loyal men must fight under his banner-"  _Gods be good..._

 

"Is it bad news?" Jon was alarmed. "Are you all right?" He gripped Robb's shoulders, studying him. 

 

"He doesn't have proof, but he claims King Robert's children aren't his." He looked into Jon's beautiful dark eyes and swallowed. "Here, read it yourself."  Eyeing the broken seal warily, he took the letter. Robb could see the exact moment he read the word "incest" _._ His whole body stiffened as if  _they_  were the accused ones.

 

"He doesn't have proof," Jon finally said. "And I don't like what he says about you. He's as good as calling you a thief." 

 

"I don't blame him for seeing it that way." Robb shrugged. "They are used to us northmen obeying them." It was much easier to focus on the political aspect of the situation, so he started berating southrons for thinking they could rule over his people. _What do they know of the north?_ Jon latched unto that new subject of conversation like a newborn babe to a teat, managing to embolden Robb even more.  _No matter what he says or does, he is captivating._

 

"There was something else I wanted to talk about. Maester Luwin has written me. Apparently Lord Manderly has eagerly offered to build a new northern fleet and mint coinage for my new kingdom." 

 

"Coinage? It never occurred to me," Jon exclaimed. "I thought we were going to keep using golden dragons. Well, he has enough silver to start making coins, but building ships will take much longer." He appeared to be deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowed. "It would be costly, Robb. Wars are costly too. I fear we'll all starve in winter if you want a fleet." 

 

He hadn't thought of that. Having a powerful navy would be great, but it was autumn now, and winter would soon follow. "Keeping the north warm and fed, that's my priority," he decided. "If Renly accepts the terms I've sent him, I'll start negotiating a deal with the Reach. I don't imagine the Tyrells would be gracious sellers." 

 

Jon grinned. "That's thoughtful of you. In regards to the war, what new brilliant plans have you made up?" 

 

"Well, marching west..."

 

* * *

 

 

"My Lord Hornwood, do take a seat."

 

"It's good to see you hale and healthy, Your Grace." Daryn dragged a chair from across the room, making an earsplitting noise. "Honestly, all these battles and you have yet to be wounded." 

 

"You guard me well." The honor guard that had kept him safe during the Whispering Wood had been doing a great job of protecting him. Yet his men made sure to compliment him, giving him all the credit, calling him a legendary warrior, the Young Wolf.  _Flatterers and fools_ , Jon called them. 

 

"It's my honor. I'd like to think my departed father would be proud of me. Yours would certainly be." 

 

Daryn Hornwood had lost his lord father in one of the earlier battles. Robb wondered if his own father would've prefered to die with a sword in his hands.  _Of course he would. He wouldn't have had to confess to crimes he never comitted._  

 

"I would ask something of you, Your Grace." The young lord paused, considering his next words. "I am betrothed to Lady Alys Karstark, and while I hope my lady will bear me strong sons, as of yet I am unwed. I have no heir. If I were to perish, the Hornwood lands would be left without a clear heir to claim them. You see I have no trueborn siblings." Daryn looked up, as if wishing to see the effect of his short speech.

 

Robb had no idea what he meant to ask of him. It sounded like even Daryn didn't. "Please, go on."

 

"I have been fighting beside your half-brother, and I'm sure you have noticed that I consider him a dear friend. I myself have a bastard brother. He is under the guardianship of Galbart Glover. I have never met him, and my father seldom mentioned him. He is young, not yet three-and-ten." 

 

 _He wants me to legitimize the boy,_ he suddenly realized.  _I had almost forgotten that kings could legitimize bastards._ "What is his name?"

 

"Larence Snow." Daryn smiled. "You are a lucky man, my king, to have grown up with so many siblings. I have no idea what it's like to be a brother, but I would like to meet Larence when we return north. I have considered naming him my heir. I wrote to Deepwood Motte, asking aftermy brother. The results have been more than satisfactory." 

 

So far as he could remember, Winterfell had always been full of children. Robb had no idea what it was like to be an only child, or to know you had a brother somewhere without ever seeing him. "I will write the decree," he promised Daryn, "though I hope you're not planning on getting yourself killed."

 

Lord Hornwood stood up. "I am most grateful-" 

 

The door sprang open. The Greatjon walked into the room, looking quite similar to a giant who had just broken out of his chains. "Your Grace," he bellowed. "Three letters for you. Urgent news from the north." 

 

Robb wondered what could be happening in the north, and how could urgent news of it reach them in the westerlands. Nevertheless, he received the letters. It didn't take much time to finish all three of them, but he read every sentece twice, for surely it could not be true. By the time he was done, the room was full of lords and knights and soldiers.

 

"My lords," Robb shouted. "The Ironborn are raiding our lands again."  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of this chapter happens roughly after the battle of Oxcross. I think these first few chapters must be very boring for readers as they follow canon. But put up with me a little more then the story line will diverge. 
> 
> Something interesting you may not have noticed: At this point in canon Ramsay was caught raping women in hornwood lands (he was lord of hornwood) and was in Winterfell's dungeon's when Theon took the castle. 
> 
> Please leave a comment.


	6. Crossing Rivers, Jumping over Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is in a different style than the last few chapters.   
> I made a HUGE mistake regarding timelines. So after realizing it, I deleted the Arya part of this chapter.

 

 

Days passed as swiftly as the blue streams she remembered from her girlhood days while Catelyn sat beside her father's bedside. Much to everyone's astonishment, Lord Hoster still lived. Yes, bedridden and weaker than ever, but he lived.

 

Some days after Ser Cleos Frey came back, the Kingslayer had escaped his cell. The Lannister men who had escorted Ser Cleos to Riverrun had freed him. Edmure had commanded the commander of the outriders to find them, but she didn't dare hope; everyday the man was free, he would be closer to safety and complete freedom while her own daughters' hope for a safe return withered.

 

Meanwhile Ser Cleos, Ser Jaime's own cousin, denied having any knowledge of the plot. "A Lannister should have a Lannister escort, Lord Tyrion said. On my honor as a knight, I didn't know anything."

 

Lord Karstark had taken leave of his senses and offered his daughter's hand in marriage to any man who would bring him the Kingslayer's head, even though the girl was Lord Daryn's betrothed. Edmure had offered a thousand gold dragons.

 

Catelyn felt like a girl again, waiting for her northern lord to come back. First it was Brandon who never did, then Ned who returned from two wars, but she still lost him too soon. Now it was her son. She wondered if that was a woman's lot in life; wedding a man, bearing his children, then waiting for the men in her life to return.

 

Most of the time the news that reached her ears were false rumours and ramblings of drunk men. Catelyn had hoped the news of Renly's death had been of that ilk, but it was true. "Lord Renly is slain. Some say one of his own guards killed him, some say it was an assassin paid by Stannis." Harrion Karstark had looked exhasted. "Some say it was my doing."

 

She had hoped for a successful alliance with Lord Renly, now she hardly knew what to hope for anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

The Lannister army moved faster than any host had a right to do. The knights, mounted on their armoured destriers, were holding their twelve-foot lances beneath the red and gold lion banners. Jon Snow carressed his own horse's neck. _Calm, now._

 

Lord Tywin had passed the river without engaging in any battles; Lady Stark's brother had let him pass unmolested. Seeing the sheer number of their men, however, Jon wished Ser Edmure had disobeyed Robb and weakened this stream of red. _I wonder if the bright color of their banners makes me think them more numerous than it was reported_. He tried to count them, but that particular part of his education was blurry now.

 

For the first fortnight there had been no actual battles, only skirmishes with the western lords as they awaited Lord Tywin. Robb was threatening Lannister's own domain now, so the man would surely come west and leave the capital undefended. _Now the battle has truly started_. In battle there was no rest. Sweat ran down his face, yet he could not waste a moment to wipe it away. One mistake, and he'd be dead. This soldier was down, and soon there would be another. The other army was so large that Jon sometimes thought their men sprouted out of the ground like weeds.

 

Another hundred arrows flew over his head as he cut down another red soldier. Since the Whispering Wood, Robb had made a point of always having archers hidden away somewhere.

 

He shoved his new opponent's spear aside easily. His shield was all but destroyed, so Jon threw it in the face of yet another knight who was rushing at him. The man howled in agony when his nose broke, and blood started washing his already red surcoat in red.

 

The next man advanced quickly. A great two-handed sword flashed in his face, and Jon slid sideways. _This one is not a fisherman's son. It's not his first time holding a sword._ He wished Ghost was with him. The wolf had stayed with Grey Wind when Jon was seperated from the van.

 

The sword darted forward, thrusting, aiming for Jon's chest. He regretted throwing away his shield now. _Even a tattered shield is better than no shield_. Jon only tried to avoid his blows. The man was half a foot taller than him. He'd learned how to fight big men, strong men. He'd even practiced with the Smalljon a few times. He ought to know what to do. Yet the man was skilled and strong both, he moved swiftly and his sword reached far. Jon wondered if this was the Mountain, even though he knew it wasn't.

 

The fight went on for more than an hour, he could swear.  _This is what truly fighting for your life feels like._ He wondered if when he died, he would be buried in the crypts, if any bastard had ever been. A hot knife of pain ran down his side. The ground was swaying beneath hid feet. "Ghost," he called weakly.

 

The arrows looked like little birds.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Jon opened his eyes, he was lying in some sort of made up bed, and Ghost was lying at his feet. The next thing he learned, he was in a tent, and he couldn't feel half his body. 

 

"How are you feeling?" Daryn's voice startled him. 

 

"Gods be good," He swore. "Where am I?" 

 

The other man raised his eyebrows. "In your tent?" 

 

"Right." Jon winced.  _It must be milk of the poppy or something of that ilk._ "What happened? Did we win the battle? Was anyone else wounded? Is Robb all right?"

 

"Aye, we won. About your other question, 'Was anyone else wounded?' Of course, this is _war_." Daryn looked to be truly amused now. "King Robb is fine. He sent your wolf after he was washed."

 

"Ghost was washed?" 

 

"You should have seen him, man. Covered in blood. The rest of him was as red as his eyes." 

 

Oddly, Jon felt like he could taste blood.  _Mayhaps I bit my tongue._ Noticing his friend's wide grin, he asked, "Why are you in such a good mood?" 

 

"Tywin Lannister is dead."

 

* * *

 

 

 _Theon has taken Winterfell._ The porridge felt like a pile of stone in his mouth.  _I trusted him. I trusted him too much._ Robb pushed away the food.  _My own people are now imprisond. My own brothers in my own home._

 

"Why would he even take a castle?" Ser Brynden asked. "Ironborn raid and leave." 

 

"I don't know. Perhaps he wished to humiliate me."  _A king who can't keep his own castle._

 

Ser Brynden cleared his throat. "He can't keep it. Your northmen are preparing to take it back. The may have gotten it back by now. News are slow." 

 

Robb nodded. "Aye, my castellan might already have thrown Theon into a dungeon."  _I need to focus on the war I'm fighting. Lord Tywin is dead. A very unremarkable death, it was. Arrow fodder._

 

"What of Lord Stannis? Has he attacked King's Landing?" One of the riverlords asked. 

 

"We don't know." The Black Fish looked grim. 

 

"Is that all, my lords?" 

 

"What about Casterly Rock?" Lord Hornwood asked. 

 

"What about it?" Robb was lost.

 

"Well, aren't we going to take it?"

 

Ser Brynden snorted. "You're a good fighter, boy, but if you think we could storm the Rock and take it--"

 

"That is quite enough," Robb interrupted.  _I am bruised all over._ "We aren't going to take that castle. That was never the plan. The plan was to distract Tywin, so he'd leave the capital undefended. Though apparently his brother, Ser Kevan had taken a good number of men to help defend it. We must wait to see what happens, now." The men emptied his tent quickly. "Lord Hornwood, you stay." 

 

Grey Wind was coming back here, now that most of the men were gone.  _How do I know that?_

 

"Your Grace," said Lord Daryn. "Have you had time to write the legitimization decree?" 

 

 _I'd forgotten all about that,_ he thought. "Not yet. I had hoped to ask you about Jon."

 

"The hedge maester we found said his wound wasn't serious. He left a bottle of milk of the poppy, for the pain." Lord Daryn smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid I might have poured too much of it in Jon's drink. He slept for hours and when he woke, he said he could barely feel his body." 

 

 _You must have been more careful, then,_ he wanted to say, but he didn't. His lords bannermen wouldn't want to be scolded for a bastard. Not even this one who called Jon a friend.  _Well, I hope this one proves to be a more loyal friend than my own._

 

"I'll send you the parchment on the morrow," he promised. "Olyvar will bring it to you." 

 

 

 


	7. Blood Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya talks to her friends.  
> The First Ranger returns.  
> Sansa spots King Stannis' van setting the kingswood on fire.  
> The northern army heads back towards the riverlands.  
> After the Battle of Blackwater, the Lannisters receive bad news.

 

"There’s ghosts, I know there is." Arya was watching Hot Pie knead bread, his arms floured up to his elbows. "Pia saw something in the buttery last night."

 

Arya snorted. Pia was always seeing things in the buttery. Usually they were men. "Can I have a tart?" she asked. "You baked a whole tray."

 

"I need a whole tray. Ser Amory is partial to them."

 

She hated Ser Amory Lorch. "Let’s spit on them."

 

Hot Pie looked around nervously. "He’ll know."

 

"He will not," Arya said. "You can’t taste spit."

 

"If he does, it’s me they’ll whip." Hot Pie stopped his kneading. "You shouldn’t even be here. It’s the black of night."

 

"The sun will rise soon enough." Arya never minded the dark. Syrio had told her once that darkness could be her friend, and he was right. If she had the moon and the stars to see by, that was enough. "I bet we could escape, and Pinkeye wouldn’t even notice I was gone," she told Hot Pie.

 

"I don’t want to escape. It’s better here than it was in them woods. I don’t want to eat no worms. Here, sprinkle some flour on the board."

 

"Can I have a tart?" she asked again. 

 

"No."

 

She filched one anyway, and ate it on her way out. It was still warm from the oven. Eating Ser Amory’s tart made Arya feel daring. _Barefoot surefoot lightfoot_ , she sang under her breath. _I am the ghost in Harrenhal._ She walked around the castle with no purpose, and she sometimes stopped to try and stand on her toe like Syrio had taught her.

 

The morning was bright and beautiful that morning, even though Arya had heard it was autumn now.  _If Pinkeye finds me missing, he'll shout and threaten to whip me._ But she wasn't afraid; Pinkeye was no Weese.  _I am the ghost in Harrenhall, and I had Weese killed._

 

That day Arya glimpsed a knight wearing Tully colors enter the castle under a peace banner. The man was rushed inside so he could meet with Ser Amory who was named castellan before Lord Tywin left. She hid close to the tower for a long time, waiting to see what happened to the knight. After a while she was convinced that the Tully man was surely killed by the Lannister castellan.

 

Quiet as a shadow, she walked toward the armory. Arya heard the ring of a hammer. Gendry was beating out a breastplate. When he worked, nothing existed for him but metal, bellows, fire. She watched the play of muscles in his chest and listened to the steel music he made. _He’s strong_ , she thought.

 

Arya slithered through the window and leapt down to the floor beside him. He did not seem surprised to see her. "What was all that noise?"

 

"A knight's come to present terms to Ser Amory." Arya liked saying _present terms,_ even though she had no idea just what the Tully knight wanted to do. "He's my grandfather's man," she added in a whisper. 

 

Gendry said nothing.

 

"Maybe we could escape with him. Some of my family is at Riverrun. He'd take us there if he knew who I am." Arya knew it wasn't the best thought-out plan. 

 

"We can't."

 

"Are you afraid?" 

 

"Leave me alone, girl."

 

"I know it's a stupid plan," she admitted, "but my brother's winning victories in the west, and my grandfather lives in Riverrun. If we could get out of Harrenhall, it wouldn't be-"

 

"Well, you can't get out, no more'n you could save Lommy." Gendry turned the breastplate with the tongs to look at it closely. "And if we did escape, where would I go?"

 

"You could work in Winterfell's smithy," she replied immediately. "I’d tell Mother how you helped me, and you could stay—"

 

"Would m’lady permit? Could I shoe your horses for you, and make swords for your lordly brothers?" 

 

Sometimes he made her so _angry_. "You stop that!"

 

"Why should I wager my life for the chance to sweat in Winterfell in place of Harrenhal?" Gendry asked. "I'll stay here."

 

Arya made a rude noise. "The queen will catch you. She sent the goldcloaks after you."

 

"Likely it wasn’t even me they wanted."

  
"It was too, you know it. You’re somebody.”

 

"I’m a ‘prentice smith, and one day might be I’ll make a master armorer... if I don’t run off and get myself killed." He turned away from her, picked up his hammer once more, and began to bang.

  
"The next helm you make, put mule’s ears on it in place of bull’s horns!" Arya shouted.

 

* * *

 

 

He turned the corpse over with his foot. The dead white face stared up at the sky with blue, blue eyes.  _He was one of my men_ , Benjen thought mournfully. _His watch has ended, now. I had six men when I rode out._

 

"Where's the other one?" asked Jafer Flowers. He was the only one left. 

 

"I do not know." Benjen's horse was nervous. She backed away from the dead men as far as her lead would allow. Benjen led her off a few paces, fighting to keep her from bolting. The horses did not like the feel of this place.  _We're not so far from the Wall now._ _We'll be back soon. A hearth is waiting to warm us and food and wine to fill our bellies._ That day they made good time, going so far that he knew they'd reach their destination the day after. Benjen couldn't remember when he'd started to think of Castle Black as home, but every time he came back from a ranging he felt his heart flutter the closer he got to it. 

 

"He wears a hunting horn," Benjen pointed out when they made camp to nibble on hard salted beef. "Do you suppose he died without using it? Were you deaf that you did not hear anything?"

 

Jafer bristled. "No horn was blown, my lord. I would've heard. His death was most unfortunate."

 

"And very unusual," he added. "He was killed with an axe. The same axe he carried." 

 

When the sun set, they set up their tent and settled for the night near a stream that was still running. Benjen had seen this stream in winter; it would freeze so that the water would be as hard as stone.  _Winter is almost upon us._ The small fire crackled satisfyingly as they washed down the salt with ale. 

 

"I think I saw something," Jafer said, just as the First Ranger lay on the ground. 

 

Benjen was on his feet in seconds. "An animal or a wildling?" 

 

"I don't know." The man looked uneasy. "It was near the horses."

 

The corpse was near the horses. They'd wrapped the black brother in an old cloak and tied him to the gelding. It made the beasts uncomfortable. "An animal caught the scent of blood. Perhaps a shadowcat is planning to make a meal of Othor's remains." 

 

Benjen's mare scrambled away, making an odd sort of scream.  _As if someone was butchering her._ The gelding started running circles around their little camp, neighing and snorting.  _It's trying to get rid of the dead body,_ he realized. 

 

"They don't like poor dead Othor," Jafer said. "I'll untie him." He walked toward the agitated animal, fundling with the rope. "Seven h--" His exclamation ended in a choking sound. 

 

Benjen Stark couldn't believe his eyes. The dead was trying to strangle his companion.

 

* * *

 

Sansa watched the smokey sky as it slowly turned black. The stars were almost invisible. Across the Blackwater Rush, a line of flame burned nightly from horizon to horizon, while on this side the Imp had fired the whole riverfront: docks and warehouses, homes and brothels, everything outside the city walls.

 

When she found Ser Dontos in the godswood, he told her that Lord Stannis intended to "smoke out the Imp's savages." He leaned close; Sansa could smell his winey breath. "The wildlings have been lighting fires too. The dwarf told the queen that Stannis had better train his horses to eat ash, since he would find no blade of grass. I hear all sorts of things as a fool that I never heard when I was a knight. They talk as though I am not there. And the Spider pays in gold for any little trifle. I think Moon Boy has been his for years."

 

"Is it true Lord Stannis burned the godswood at Storm’s End?" 

 

"Aye." Dontos nodded. "As an offering to his new god. He’s vowed to burn the Great Sept of Baelor too, if he takes the city."

 

"Let him," Sansa answered.  _Joffrey beheaded my father on its steps._ "I should like to see it burned."

 

"Hush, child, the gods will hear you."

 

"They never hear my prayers."

 

"They sent me to you, didn't they?" he asked. 

 

 _My poor drunk Florian,_ she thought.  _He's all I have._ "What good have you done? You promised to take me home, yet I am still here." She caressed the bark of a nearby tree.  _I should leave before the fighting begins._

 

"I’ve spoken to a certain man I know, a good friend to me . . . and you, my lady. He will hire a swift ship to take us to safety, when the time is right." 

 

"I should leave this city before the fighting starts," Sansa insisted. "They've all forgotten about me. I know we could slip away unnoticed if we tried."

 

Dontos shook his head. "Out of the castle, yes, we could do that, but the city gates are more heavily guarded than ever, and the Imp has even closed off the river." 

 

"When Stannis comes, he’ll have ten times as many men as Joffrey does, and more ships, too. Everyone says so."

 

"The number of his men doesn't matter, sweet child." 

 

"He'll cross the river with his ships," Sansa answered. 

 

"It’s a long sail from Storm’s End. Perhaps the good gods will send a storm to sweep them from the seas.” Dontos gave a hopeful smile. “It is not easy for you, I know. You must be patient, child. When my friend returns to the city, we shall have our ship. Have faith in your Florian, and try not to be afraid.”

 

* * *

 

Lord Daryn Hornwood observed the soldier. He was a common infantryman with an unremarkable appearance. His dark hair was straight and short, and his big brown eyes looked kind.  _There's something familiar about him, though._

 

"How old are you?" Daryn asked. 

 

"Eight-and-ten, m'lord." He looked around the tent nervously. Daryn didn't like that; the boy would need to get comfortable around nobility if he was supposed to be a lord's squire.

 

"Oh, don't scrutinize him too much," Jon Snow interrupted their awkward conversation. "I'd like to thank you for dragging me out of the way when I fell," he continued, turning to face the soldier. "If not for the maester at the rearguard who fixed me up, the wound would have festered. So, I am very grateful." 

 

"It was no bother, m'lord." 

 

"And I am no lord," Jon answered him. "Tell me, what is your name?" 

 

"Osric," the man said, his voice deep and low and gruff. _That is a northern name,_ he reflected.

 

"Well, Osric," Jon tested the name. "I understand you're a northman. Would you like to be Lord Hornwood's squire?"

 

"Aye, m'lord, I would." It had been Daryn's own idea; the Freys were trying to get him to accept one of Lord Walder's grandsons as a squire, and he'd refused the offer. He was in need of an squire, however, and this man needed to be rewarded in some way. Putting on your armor on your own was almost impossible, and Daryn knew that even Jon had a man to help him put on and clean it. When the man left, with instructions to come back before supper, they started discussing the next moves.

 

Nobody had thought Lord Tywin would die in a battle; he was usually so far away from any actual fighting that he'd probably never used his sword in this war. It made their position much more secure, and the western lords on their way much more inclined to surrender, but the army had been seriously damaged in the last battle.  _And the ironborn are raiding our lands and taking our castles._

 

Daryn wanted to go back north. The purpose of the invasion of the westerlads had been to intimidate Lord Tywin and repay him for setting fire to the riverlands, now that had happened. They probably couldn't hold on to the western holdfasts they'd taken after they went back north, but surely their homeland was much more important.  _Of course the riverlands are very hard to defend, so the riverlords won't take kindly to being abandoned._

 

* * *

 

On their way back to Riverrun, they had stopped near a landed knight's keep. The knight had extended an invitation to the king and his lords to stay in what was probably the smallest castle Robb had seen instead of camping outside with the men and horses. Robb had insisted his half-brother come in as well, to the disdain of some of the younger lordlings.  _I knew he wouldn't be pleased about that._

 

When Jon had been allowed to attend war councils, someone had thought to dub him _Lord Snow_  so as to imply he was reaching far beyond his station; lordly titles didn't belong with bastard surnames after all.The name had stuck, a title almost everyone started to use. Jon hated that name almost as much as he hated their father's killer.  _Does he hate me now? Does he know about the letter?_

 

"Stop thinking," Jon whispered. His was stroking Robb's jaw, touching the red beard he'd grown. "Have I ever told you thinking makes you look weird?" 

 

He gasped, offended. "What could you mean? I refuse to believe I look anything but godlike _all the time_."

 

"I never said you looked bad. Just weird." Jon kissed the tip of his nose. 

 

Talking to him, joking and teasing, it was all so familiar. It reminded him of the days when he had no responsibility; of the times when nobody called him 'Your Grace _._ '  _Now it's only Jon and Mother that call me by my name._ "Are you all right? I mean... Your injury, does it still hurt?" 

 

Jon was searching his face now. _What do you see?_ he thought bitterly.  _A king who cannot hold his own castle?_

 

"I'm fine," his brother replied. "It hurts if I move too much, but it's getting better." 

 

Robb swallowed.  _Does he know about the letter?_  "I'm glad. I've just been wondering if I may be allowed to kiss you?"

 

He rolled his dark, dark eyes.  _Almost black, but not quite._ "Do I look like a maiden from the songs?" Jon asked. 

 

He waited no longer, leaping forward like a hungry beast, he claimed Jon's chapped lips.  _When we kiss, he likes to play with the hair at the back of my head. He likes my beard, too, though he'd never admit it. Our noses always bump into each other before we can find a rhythm._ _I must remember, I must._

 

"What is it?" Jon asked. They were still so close, their lips still touching. Robb hadn't known one could still talk in such a position. 

 

He moved away, putting a bit of distance between them. "Do you know about the letter?" The letter was from his mother, Lady Catelyn.  _Your brothers are_ _missing,_ she'd written. _Sansa is a hostage, and Arya is lost. You are fighting a war, and you must needs have a suitable heir. I suggest you choose and wed one of Lord Frey's daughters before marching north._  

 

"I do." Jon nodded, looking more solemn and serious than ever. "I always knew you'd wed a beautiful lady some day." 

 

"I doubt it," he replied, his voice cracking and a nervous chuckle blurting out. "Lord Walder is not known for siring comely children, just for making an alarming number of them." 

 

"Well, at least you'll have a lot of options to choose from." Jon was trying to make the awkward conversation better by humor, but neither of them were in a good enough mood to appreciate it. 

"I don't want to think about choosing a bride. I want to-- Gods, I want you." His thumbs were sure to leave bruises on Jon's hips. He started leading him toward the bed. They took off their boots before getting on the mattress, and when they did, Robb quickly pulled off Jon's breeches and shirt. He climbed on top of him, his thighs on either side of his legs. He touched the scar on his side, his fingers brushing the skin gently. "You look like a man," Robb told him. "Like a warrior."

 

"Well then, do something." 

 

Robb unlaced his own breeches. His hands were squeezing Jon's arse. "I want you."

 

The other smirked, grinding against him, but stopped as soon as Robb showed him a bottle of oil. "I don't want us to do that." He was staring up with shock. "Gods, Robb, we _can't_."

 

"Why not?" He wanted to be inside of Jon, and then have him inside of himself too.  _I'm going to have to marry a girl, and you'll run away from me. I know you will._

 

"Because..." He paused. "I don't know, but I don't want you to-- to _bugger_ me." Jon used that verb so quietly, like their father was still around to make him clean the stables as punishment for swearing. 

 

"Fine," Robb said, suddenly angry. Jon made it sound so filthy, almost as though he were saying,  _We should be ashamed._ Robb had been ashamed enough for a lifetime. He'd been ashamed after the time he touched Jon while drunk, and he'd been ashamed for all the time between then and meeting Jon again at Moat Cailin. 

 

"What?" Now his half-brother sounded furious. "Did you think I was a whore, _Your Grace?_ Don't I have the right to refuse you?" 

 

 _This is going so wrong._ Robb wanted to make him stop talking, but Jon continued. 

 

"Did you think I was at your disposal?" Jon was almost growling now. "I don't want to sleep with you."

 

Robb wanted to correct him, wanted to tell him that he had every right to stop him whenever he didn't want to go any further. He wanted to let Jon know why he was angry, but his mouth wasn't cooperating. "Fine," he said again, and he knew he must be sounding like a spoiled brat. 

 

* * *

 

 Tyrion couldn't believe his ears, or his eyes for that matter. He was so shocked to hear of his father's death that he couldn't even think of something to say.  _All those times I told myself I ought to watch my tongue, and now I'm speechless._

 

Ser Kevan looked truly sad. Tyrion couldn't imagine his father as a nice big brother to grow up with, but then everyone said Tywin had been different when his lady wife was alive. 

 

His speechless state didn't last very long. "Now I have lost both my parents. At least Cersei cannot accuse me of murdering this one." 

 

Ser Kevan was shocked. "Tyrion! By all the gods, do you have no respect for your father's departed soul?"

 

_I hope his soul has truly departed; I wouldn't like to be haunted by Lord Tywin Lannister._

 

"The Imp has no respect for anyone or anything," Cersei claimed, her green eyes almost leaking poison. 

 

 _I know why you're so pissed off, sweet sister._ Tyrion couldn't help but smirk. He then tried to hide his huge grin behind a cup of wine.  _I am the Lord of Casterly Rock._

 

"But I do," his sister continued. "I would love to avenge our father."

 

"Who are you going to blame for _his_ death?" Tyrion asked. "Robb Stark? Are you going to execute his little sister as retribution? I suppose that would make sense to you, since Joffrey is now pledged to wed the Tyrell girl." 

 

Cersei glared at him.  _She would love to blame it on me. She would love to execute me and claim the Rock. Hasn't she already tried to have me killed? Mayhaps I should take the Lannister army and leave her to defend her dear boy's city with the Gold Cloaks._ Tyrion knew the Queen Regent didn't have an idea to avenge their father. 

 

He turned to face his uncle. "Tell me, does Robb Stark's army accept freeriders and hedge knights?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Content from ACOK Sansa 4, AGOT Jon 7, ACOK Arya 8)


End file.
